Courting Narcissa
by Llewellyn McEllis
Summary: Lucius Malfoy tells the story of how and when he fell in love with beautiful Narcissa Black and the games he had to play to win her heart. Some fluff, all ego, total Malfoy!
1. Introduction

**Introduction-Where it all Began**

It is a common misconception that a man of my stature and position could not possibly love his wife, let alone remain faithful to her, and yet, in the last sixteen years, not another woman has been able to detract my attention from her physically, mentally, or emotionally (not that my emotions are anyone's business but my own.) Perhaps these petty rumors began in the social circles my wife keeps, for I will not deny that more than half a dozen witches, all of whom at one time called themselves her friends, threw themselves at me in fits of passion and begged for me to grace their offspring with my pure and noble blood. Denial makes for bitter witches, and it is this bitterness I blame for the scandalous gossip surrounding our family relations.

Rumor has also surfaced to suggest she takes on lovers just to spite me, and that she has even consorted with half my friends, including, of course, the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Come now, you've seen the man; brilliant as he may be, he is certainly no Casanova, and though they do indeed share a love of unusual potions, I know for a fact that she would never sully our marriage bed with him, or any other man unless, of course, there were something to be gained from it that I was unable to give her. Call me arrogant, overconfident if you will, but there is nothing I couldn't or wouldn't give the woman if she asked it of me, and so I worry very little about her interactions with other men.

Another widespread delusion is that our marriage was arranged by our families without our consent to strengthen pureblood, family ties. I will never personally deny that marrying Narcissa Black was an alliance to be not only envied, but reckoned with, so perhaps it was arranged by fate, for 'tis my own belief that she was born for me and I for her. There were no contracts, no prior matches made. I chose her because to simply see the woman is to fall instantly in love with her, and so my fate was sealed the very first time I laid eyes upon her in the guise of the blushing maiden. In cunning I was strong and wickedness divine, and these were the tools that wooed her to my side before the end, but alas where did it begin?

I had known of her nearly all our lives because our families were acquainted, but I, being older, went off to school more than four years before she did, and truth be told she never once crossed my mind. When she arrived at Hogwarts during my sixth year, I couldn't be bothered with her, and by the time I graduated, the words 'Narcissa who?' most definitely would have come from me were she brought up in conversation. I was too busy trying to secure a place for myself in the world without my father's influence to think of what last I knew to be a pale and rather prepubescent little girl, but Narcissa had her sights on me, or so the stories circulated back to me sometime later.

It was Christmas Eve, and she was in her seventh year when first, or shall I say next, I saw her. Every year the Malfoys held a Yule Ball, and all the richest pureblood families in the wizarding world were invited. I say that it was here that I first saw her because never before that night had I seen her for what she truly was, a woman. She and her younger sister Bella were gossiping in the corner by the fire, their quaint and girlish laughter reaching only those with attentive ears, but their beauty was the envy of the ball and there was scarce a witch or wizard in attendance who was able to keep their eyes from the Black Sisters. I remember that her lips were stained dark red with pomegranate juice, and this alone was contrast enough to the iridescence of her moon-pale complexion to begin a simmer in my blood. Her honey-hued hair was piled high upon her head and fell in a frame of ringlet tendrils around her oval face. Dear Merlin, I know not how I remember to this day the way she looked when first I spied her, and even then I couldn't believe that I had noticed those details, but I had, and she had noticed me noticing her.

I was sure she was making eyes at me, and so I played the game, smiling handsomely, but pulling back to business every time my father drug me into some politically important and influential conversation that could help me on my way to financial independence and freedom. It wasn't until my own sister intervened to steal his attention that I found myself free enough to make my way toward reacquaintance with Narcissa.

In naming her Narcissa her parents were no fools, for the woman knew her beauty and her place even then, and she certainly had no shame in using one or the other, and sometimes both to her advantage in the most lethal fashion. Better men than I had died in search of nothing more than her sweet, affectionate smile, and I was prepared myself to take on death as my punishment for making that smile mine. When she flashed it at me, it was hard for me to find my voice, "Narcissa," I held a hand to her, "it's been so long since last I saw you, I almost didn't recognize you. You've certainly grown since last we spoke."

Bellatrix sneered over her shoulder at me like a demoness, her cornflower-blue eyes scanning me with almost as much interest as her fair-haired sister, "Spoke? I think the last time we saw you, Malfoy, you hexed us both with chicken pox and sent us on our way."

"I did?" I astounded. "Surely there must be some mistake," I insisted. "I wouldn't have."

Narcissa laughed and held her dainty hand to me. It was the most heavenly sound I'd ever heard, and I felt a certain sense of pride that it had come on my behalf, "Actually, you did hex us with chicken pox." I could feel my face falling a little, the pride I'd carried myself over to her with waning in the light of her perfect scrutiny. She was outshining me and all because of that little brat Bellatrix, "But that was so long ago, Lucius. Never trust a lady who holds a grudge," and then she smiled. Ensnared, I could feel my heart racing wildly inside me. She'd smiled at me, for me, and it made her sister antsy.

"A grudge?" I asked, "Why hold a grudge when you can have revenge?"

Again, she laughed, not at me, but in appreciation and agreement, "Exactly!" she chimed. I hadn't noticed until then, but I was still holding her hand in the customary position. Her hand was soft inside my own, "Though I hardly think I have it in me to exact revenge for a hex more than six years in the past."

"I might," Bellatrix glowered.

I watched as the older, and more regal of the sisters exerted dominance; Narcissa pushed herself between her sister and myself and stole the conversation. She charmed me with her intellect, enamored me with her smile and it wasn't long before bored, Bella wandered off in search of someone who might give her the attention she desired. In Narcissa's company alone, I plotted out my future with her in silent anticipation of our certain glory.

I absolutely had to have her.

I hadn't given much though to a permanent mate before that night. That isn't to say I didn't have my share of fun with nearly every young, available witch in western Europe (as well as a few who were older, and probably not so available,) but interacting with Narcissa that night had inspired a different motivation in me. Don't get me wrong, I would be inhuman if I tried to claim I didn't want to chase her giggling around the bedchamber before I had my way with her and she with me, but she gave me nothing more than a smile that night, and the implied promise that were I to pursue her, she might grant me a kiss. A kiss! Imagine; just a kiss.

The woman had infuriated me with desire and hadn't even kissed me, let alone allowed me to touch any other part of her than her hand. She was a coy one, that Narcissa Black, but I knew that night I had to have her for my own. There was only way that was going to happen. I'd have to court her like a proper lady.


	2. Little Hearts and Chaperones

**Chapter One- Little Hearts and Chaperones**

So few people actually realize that the key to success lies not in how much money you're worth, though I'll admit that doesn't hurt. It doesn't really come with social stature either, as sometimes your successes will raise you on the social ladder, just as your failures will lower you into the sludge. In both stature and wealth I was already secure, you see, but only because I was a Malfoy, and not because of anything I'd done. Yes, there is a definite advantage in being the only son of the most influential and wealthy wizarding family, but there was no way I could have simply lived off the Malfoy name alone. My father believed that in order to be a worthy heir to his fortune and his surname, I must make my name mean something. I had to earn my place in the world, make my own successes so that when the name Lucius Malfoy was spoken in social circles it evoked a response. The secret to my successes in both business and pleasure came only after a great deal of planning, which inherently I am quite fond of for a number of reasons.

Planning allows for calculation and plotting. It encourages levels of brain activity that have a tendency to accumulate rust if not regularly exercised. When properly planned every situation carries the capacity for ultimate success by evoking the most primordial form of magic left in our world: focus. Focus is such a subtle form of magic that it is often overlooked, where even common muggles know its worth. Yet it would seem that even the most educated and well practiced wizards and witches of our age have forgotten its importance before implementing plans on such lofty things as world domination, thereby limiting their success ratio.

But I digress in my memory, and nearly lose my place, for we were talking about Narcissa. There was method to my discourse, believe it or not. It was my early memories of Narcissa that reminded me that success can only be obtained through methods of careful planning, and were there a woman born to rival my own capacity to plot and calculate it was Narcissa Black.

After the Yule Ball at Malfoy Manor, I sent an invitation to Black Mansion in which I asked Narcissa to accompany me to dinner. She replied that she would be delighted for an opportunity to further our reacquaintance with on another and asked for a specific date and time. I sent word that we should dine in Paris on New Years Day at 7:30 in a quaint restaurant I had become quite fond of over the years by the name of Fleuve Foncé. I was quite taken aback when Narcissa responded that she did not feel comfortable having dinner with me unchaperoned in Paris, but would happily join me at 7:30 in London on New Years Day at a restaurant she'd heard wonderful things about called Vidaccio's. In London she would not feel the need for a chaperone, she confessed, and signed her letter by dotting the i in her name with a little heart. How juvenile, I thought, while at the same time finding it somewhat intriguing. Little hearts and chaperones, why she was just a little girl. . .

I admit her missive threw me, and I wasn't even sure at first why. Was it the mention of a chaperone accompanied by that heart-dotted i in her name? No, it was more than that. I really felt that these were devices of some kind to convey a false-sense of innocence and naivete. Was she expecting me to try and take advantage of her? Had she heard rumors of my virulent promiscuity? I wrote that I would meet her there, but over the five days between our final correspondence and the evening of our first rendezvous I became ill-at-ease with the way she had taken charge of i my /i invitation to dinner and accommodated it to suit her own agenda, whatever that might have been.

"You're distracted," Rodolphus Lestrange noticed, sidling up beside me and pulling back on the reigns of the horse he was riding. "It's not like you, Lucius, to be distracted, and when it happens, I worry. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," I said, but I had known Rodolphus for years and he had little difficulty when it came to seeing through me.

Knitting his brow, the two perfectly groomed and shaped black arches of his eyebrows drew together in disbelief. "Either you're last meeting with the Dark Lord didn't go as well as you had hoped, or you've gotten attached to one of your little female escapades." He knew me better than anyone at that time. My lack of a reply drew scoffing laughter from him, "Do I hear wedding bells in your future, Malfoy?"

"Don't be absurd," I snapped.

"Ah, but it is a woman, though?" he prodded. "Which one? Lunette? Arabella? Oh, don't tell me, I know. It's that saucy girl with the dark hair, what was her name?"

"Felicia?"

"Felicia," he groaned her name with masculine admiration. "She is absolutely delicious, yes, but I hardly picture her in the position of Malfoy heiress."

"She's not really my type at all, is she?" I sighed. I was thinking about Narcissa again, about the way she had twisted my plans back on me, almost reversing my invitation so that it was hers. "Fine, if you must know I'm having dinner tomorrow evening with Narcissa Black."

"Narcissa Black?" he astounded. "How did you manage dinner with Narcissa Black? She goes to dinner with no man."

"Really?" I hadn't heard that about her. Come to think of it, I hadn't heard much about her at all. "No man?"

"No man." He repeated. "Of course she's got half the guys in her year vying for her affection but she can't be bothered to give any of them the time of day. Now her sister, on the other hand. . ."

"Which one?"

"Bellatrix, of course. I hear the other one's got a spot for mudbloods."

"How disgusting," I could feel my lip curl into a distasteful snarl.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Now Bellatrix, she's something else."

"Hm, yes," I sneered, "Bellatrix." There was something about Bellatrix Black that rubbed me the wrong way. Perhaps it was how she'd sniped me in conversation at the Yule Ball, her quick wit and vengeful tongue carving into the very air around her like the sharp edges of her personality. Thinking back on it, I had gone into conversation with Bellatrix already feeling ill-at-ease, so it wasn't really because of anything she said. To me, the girl seemed less than sophisticated, somewhat wild, but not in an appealing manner. "Quite a tart then, is she?" I surmised.

"Oh, absolutely, but that's the beauty of it. She's a sure thing," Rodolphus laughed. "I hear you don't even have to take her to dinner, and she's not bad to look at either." That much was true. Bellatrix had an exotic, dark beauty that contrasted both of her sisters. "Not to mention she's absolutely wicked, from what I've heard. Why even the Dark Lord has supposedly taken an interest in her."

"Really?" I hadn't heard that myself.

"That's what I've heard. Whether it's true. . ." We were nearing the stables again and I was glad because the cold air had started to slice through my cloak. "So, how did you get Narcissa to go out with you?"

I shrugged, "I simply asked her."

He argued with me a little bit after that, insisting that it was impossible. No one just asked Narcissa Black out and got a straight answer. I didn't mention to him that she had maneuvered my invitation to suit her needs, but took great pride in the fact that I was a rare exception to some unspoken rule Narcissa had obviously put into play. Now, there are some who might believe that I went into that first date with her believing I was something special, that she had seen in me something she saw in no other man, but that isn't what I felt at all. In fact, I was even more skeptical than I had been prior to Rodolphus' information, and had grown more distrusting of her command over my plans.

I debated blowing her off completely, simply because it all seemed too easy after learning about her natural disposition to play hard to get. I didn't trust her, but in the end I realized that there was little she could do except attempt to humiliate me by standing me up, and if she did, there were ways of getting back at her that would throw her game of hard to get back in her face so she became harder to want. I brooded over it so heavily that by New Years Eve I was convinced that she was toying with me and had prepared myself for the worst, and in so doing, I had lost my focus.


	3. Bella Disenchanted

**Chapter Two-Bella Disenchanted**

Losing focus was probably the worst thing I could have done up against an opponent like Narcissa Black. I call her an opponent because I see her now from the prospective of a retired player, and on my finest day I will not deny that Narcissa was once my greatest adversary. I was used to young women fawning over me and had been accustomed to such treatment from the time I was about twelve years of age. My mother would have tea with a group of witches each week who made constant comment on how cunning and attractive I was. So from an early age I knew there was no sense denying that I am a handsome man and that whatever gods designed me were most generous and accommodating--I've always praised them for it. Yes, yes, my ego; I've heard tell it will be my downfall in the end, but what harm exists in recognizing your own self-worth?

I knew at a very young age that being beautiful would help me out in places money and my family name could not. Why, I still recall the first time I realized that not everyone was aware of the Malfoy name and power; from that day forward it became my mission not only as my father's son, but as heir to the Malfoy name and history to establish world wide recognition and renown for it. When the name Malfoy was heard in New Orleans it would evoke the same reaction as when muttered in Istanbul, Paris, London, or Los Angeles, but even more importantly than just the last name would be the reaction to the full name: Lucius Malfoy.

Self possession and awareness, another of those subtle arts we as wizards seem to have forgotten, but before I forget myself, I was talking about the way young women used to fawn over me. My mother had sparked self-interest in me by glorifying me as a small child. What beautiful hair I had, what stunning eyes and porcelain complexion; why in all the world there existed no babe more beautiful than I was in her eyes. On my pedestal, I was not just some petty prince, I was king, and with nothing more than a clever smile and the batting of my skillful lashes the Malfoy kingdom was mine all mine.

In my first year at Hogwarts, age eleven, mind you, I had not one, not two, but three girls in my house, all older than myself, who vied to do my schoolwork for me. I barely remember their names anymore, or even what they looked like, but they were my first taste of casual virility. Simply because I was attractive and rich they begged to do my bidding, and who was I to deny their desire to serve me. Over the years I had become quite accustomed to this sort of behavior and had girls in every house of that school rivaling one another to spark my interest and attention. Outside of school this power waxed to a might I admit almost sheepishly I worried I could not contain, but my experience proved my benefactor, and I managed to set up a remarkable lifestyle in which I barely needed to lift a finger to acquire anything for myself.

What I did take into mind when I began courting Narcissa Black was that she had come from a family much like my own in which all three heiresses must compete for status against one another in the eyes of their father. Such competitions would boost his opinion of them, and therefore influence all decisions he made on their behalf. Cunning was necessary to survive in the Black household if you wanted recognition. In marrying a muggle, the oldest of the Black daughters had fallen out of competition leaving Narcissa and Bellatrix to fight it out amongst themselves; however to the best of my knowledge very little fighting ever occurred between the two of them. They were a team, which I first discovered on the night of my date with Narcissa.

She was more than forty minutes late and my practiced patience was curling at the edges with every new minute that ticked by. I rose when I saw her enter and begin stalking toward my table like a panther, her dark hair carefully attended to so that it piled almost casually atop her head in a loose bun while dripping tendrils framed her long face. Unbelievable, I remarked to myself. What game, what nerve, what the hell was going on? "Ah, Bellatrix," I extended a hand to her pleasantly, but beneath her heavy lids, pale-blue eyes sized me up, onto my false congeniality before it ever left my lips. Nevertheless she conceded her hand to me in social pleasantry, and I raised to my lips like a proper gentleman. "To what do I owe this unexpected meeting with you? Surely you have not come in place of your sister."

Her sly smile was a little cockeyed, unnaturally so, as though she had practiced for years to make it crooked, "I am only a messenger," she said, pulling out the chair across from me, before taking a self-invited seat. "Narcissa sent me ahead to extend her apologies. She is running late."

I nearly choked on my own astonishment before I managed the word, "Late?"

"Aye," she tapped a long, antique filter on the tabletop before opening a matching cigarette case and lighting a cigarette. She appeared both elegant and immature, if such a combination is even possible; but I remember thinking her somewhat ridiculously attractive, this sixteen year old girl playing at being a woman. I remembered what Rodolphus said about her; she was a sure thing, but I had had enough sure things my whole life through to last, and frankly I was tired of the ease with which I found my needs met. "She had a terrible problem with her gown," she explained casually, blowing the smoke from her cigarette into the air over her right shoulder. She was somewhat tomboyish, I thought, a coupling between femininity and masculine power so few women ever manage to achieve without detracting from their outward beauty.

"A problem with her gown?"

"Yes," she repeated, "A problem with her gown. Is there an echo in here, Malfoy? Bloody hell already."

"Does she not realize it has been nearly an hour that she's kept me here waiting?"

"Of course she does," she smiled venomously. "That is why she sent me, to offer you her deepest apologies and ask that you wait. If you will wait for her, I am to return your answer to her at once."

Wait? What nerve indeed! "And if I will not?"

"If you will not, she has asked that I thank you generously for your interest in her, but she cannot rescind your affections or attention at this time."

"Will the gentleman be ordering now?" The waiter sidled up to the table.

"Not yet," I held up a steady hand.

"I'll have a dry martini," Bellatrix cooed, winking casually at the waiter.

Rodolphus wasn't kidding in the least; she was a little tart. "And for you? Another drink, Master Malfoy?"

"No," I could feel my jaw tightening, the tension spreading quickly into my neck and shoulders. "I'm fine at present, thank you."

He hurried away from the table and looked across the table at Bellatrix, "Fine, I will wait for her." What had possessed me to accept such ludicrous terms was beyond me. Already I had come into this date with her wary, and even as I conceded to wait I felt like some kind of fool. Curse me and my infernal need to justify my right to conquest. "Well?" I stared across the table indignantly. "Shouldn't you go on and tell her I will wait."

"Oh, you've plenty of time," she shrugged. "Time enough for me to have my drink."

The waiter returned and set the drink in front of her, asking once again if I didn't want another drink, after he was gone, I looked over at her and wondered if in her uncouth attempt to play the civilized lady she hadn't forgotten one thing-manners. "Have your drink then and be on your way."

She was grinning again, "Not so fast, Malfoy." She swirled the olive around inside the glass casually. "Before I go, there are a few things I need to know."

"Hm," I squinted, the tension following course down into the muscles of my arms. I wasn't sure how much longer I could sit in her presence before I lost my own manners. "What is there that you could possible need to know about me?"

"Why Narcissa?" she asked.

"I beg you pardon?"

"You heard me," she puffed casually on her cigarette waiting for an answer and when I didn't provide one she asked again, "Why did you ask Narcissa out, and not me?"

My upper lip twitched, the sinister tingling of a vengeful grin, "Now, Bella," I began somewhat condescendingly, "you're a little young for me, don't you think? Why, in some societies I could go to prison for simply speaking with you without your father's permission." I watched her carefully guarded expression with hopeful eyes. It served her right for thinking of herself, thinking herself worthy of me after she had been so crass with me in my own home on Christmas Eve.

Unfortunately, she gave nothing more than a wild-eyed tilt of her head before she replied in her casual drawl, "Shame, shame, dear Lucius. I would have made your head spin."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that, Bella," I said. "No doubt at all."

With the same alacrity she seemed to possess in all matters, she slammed the contents of her drink and pushed away from the table, drawing a careless hand across her mouth. Those eyes were definitely wild, I noticed, and for a moment, I actually wondered how she would make me regret denying her and making her feel like a child. Her eyes seemed to say, _No one messes with Bellatrix Black and walks away unscathed_, while her smile assured me no harm no foul.

"I'll give my sister your message," she said, and then she left me once again, wondering just how long of a wait I had agreed to and if Narcissa Black was even worth it.


	4. The Muggle Zoo

_At the Zoo-By A.A. Milne_

"And lions and roaring tigers  
hate saying, "How do you do?" -  
But I give buns to the elephant  
when I go down to the Zoo!"  
  
**Chapter Three- The Muggle Zoo**

Bellatrix was young and impetuous in her social statement, but her recklessness would be her downfall in the end. I, on the other hand, believe fully that in order to make a statement flare is necessary. It captures the attention of those around you inspiring them to notice you, but when you set the whole place on fire, they're notice won't matter because they'll be trying to put you out. Bellatrix is to flare as an explosion is to a candle; both enticing and beautiful, one is deadly enough to tear you limb from limb in achieving recognition for itself, and I am positive you need not me to tell you which that is.

That was why attraction had drawn me to Narcissa in the first place. Narcissa had flare. She carried herself dangerously, but as an observer one was never left asking about the scar she'd leave behind. The scar was an inconsequential memoir, a token that she left behind that reminded you she'd been there. Even as I wanted to believe she couldn't get to me, that at any given time I could get up and walk away from that table and never think about Narcissa Black again, I knew I was lying to myself. I barely knew her, after all. We'd shared simple, but intriguing conversation over a span of two hours, and yet I was obviously infatuated enough with her to spend another twenty minutes after Bella's departure waiting for my dinner companion.

I must have looked like an absolute fool, and to this day, it is one of the few things I begrudgingly hold under my tongue against her. The wait staff continually checked in on me, asking if I might like another drink, or if perhaps I might. . . but one menacing, but casual glare had been enough to silence any other insinuations on what I might like to do with myself in their restaurant. I was Lucius Malfoy, after all. If I wanted to sit in the center of their dining room all evening drinking fire whiskey and singing Guiseppe Verdi's Les Vêpres Siciliennes (I Vespri Siciliani,) line by line then by damned I would do it, and not one of those pathetic roaches would say a demeaning thing about it. 

But alas, the joke was on them all, for when Narcissa breached they doorway an unearthly silence gripped the dining room and all eyes turned toward her. When she saw me, a subtle but endearing smile broke upon her full mouth, and she began toward the table. She didn't walk toward me, but glided, as though her feet barely touched the ground at all and to this day I still remember every detail of the outfit it had taken her more than an hour to arrive in. Glistening, silver seed-pearls decorated the bodice of her gown, refracting the light so that an opalescent glow surrounded her. What a vision she was to behold, I thought; how I would love to have her. I recall the precision of her hair, how it swept up off her neck into an elegant, honey-gold bun in the back that sprouted fluid springs of curl. 

It almost shames to confess that when I tried to stand, I was so flustered that my thigh caught the edge of the table, but that humiliation was a small price to pay to be in her fair company. "Narcissa," I extended my hand, surprised that I had found my voice. Not that I had been worried, but moments before I spoke, it had felt stuck behind my tongue. "You look simply. . ." whatever compliment I adorned her with had to match perfectly. It couldn't fall short or else I'd lose her before she was even mine. I swallowed, "Breathtaking." 

"Why thank you, Lucius," she held her hand to me and I lifted it to my lips. Her skin was flower-petal smooth and deliciously fragrant. As I helped her into her seat, I instinctively ran my tongue over my bottom lip, tasting the essence she had left on my kiss. Dear Gods, what was wrong with me. She was just a woman; a young woman who hadn't even taken her N.E.W.T. tests yet and I had had dozens just like her. "Please do accept my apologies," she said. I pushed her gently up to the table and she thanked me with another smile.

"Apologies?" I astounded. "Whatever for? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I'm more than an hour late," she reminded me.

"Oh, that," I grimaced inwardly, but kept my best face on for her. "It's nothing, really, and well worth the wait, I assure you."

Sweet laughter trickled from her, "Well, Bella was under the impression you were somewhat upset."

"Upset? No," I said. "Of course not. I don't know what would have given her that impression. Perhaps it was the martini."

She tilted her head to look at me, a curious innocence fawning her exotic features, "Or perhaps she was trying to taint my fascination with you with a little fib." She laughed again, "So she might have you all to herself."

"Perhaps," I took my seat again. Had Bellatrix told her sister she'd tried to tempt me? Was it part of some sisterly game they played? There seemed so little distance in their ages, perhaps no more than ten or eleven months which would inspire heavy competition, I imagined. Lifting my hand, I gestured for the waiter. Confounded fool, ten minutes ago I couldn't get him away from the table, but now he made me wait. This is why we enslave house-elves. There is no hesitation. You simply tell them what you want and they do it for you; none of this ridiculous waiting. "Shall I order wine?"

She opened the wine list, hesitantly perusing the contents, "Perhaps we might wait until we order," she suggested casually. "I'm not sure I could decide just yet." 

You see, this was where I think I actually fell in love with her. She didn't correct my minor social blunder, or even draw attention to it, but simply overlooked it. Obviously someone of my position and status would know not to order wine before dinner, and truth be told, I did know, but in her company, in her radiance, my mind was positively befuddled. "I must confess," she added, "I have no head for wine at all, you see, and were I to have a glass before we dine, you might very well wind up with a silly little girl in your care."

I laughed, "We wouldn't want that, now would we?"   
It was true. I wouldn't want her incoherent. That was part of the conquest. I wanted her just as she was, unhindered, unembellished by wine or spirits, and I wanted her to want me too. It was ridiculous. I felt like some silly school boy bumbling through his first date, when in fact I had already been out with more women then most men ever even meet up with in one lifetime. When the waiter finally came, we ordered and he recommended the wine. Narcissa insisted on a dry, red French wine in honor of Paris and the New Year, and seeing as that was the most expensive bottle on the list, I could hardly deny her.

Only seconds before the waiter walked away, I felt doubt. What if now that we were absolutely alone, not a family member or acquaintance around to save the conversation if it faltered, Narcissa and I found we had nothing in common? How embarrassing would that be? I almost wished that Bellatrix were back so I had someone to sneer at, while vying for her sister's affection, but then Narcissa said, "Now that we're alone, I'm dying for you to tell me all about America."

"America?"

"Oh yes. My father tells me you do business there. What kind of business?"

"Nothing all that important, I'm afraid. For the most part I have been an emissary for the Dark Lord, gathering supporters to his cause." I told her. 

"Lord Voldemort?" she boldly asked. "Yes, my sister is quite fascinated with his view, but I know so very little about it myself. Tell me everything."

"Everything?" Well, that took care of dinner conversation. I took great pride in discussing the politics of muggle and wizard interactions. If I had my way, there would be no such thing. They belonged in their world and we in ours. Narcissa nodded agreeably, she argued a few valuable points about Muggle medicine and the recent advances in their technology.

"You do know they've finally been to the moon?"

"Yes, but look how long it took them to get there," I shook my head. "And their method. . ."

"It is rather crass, isn't it?" It was mind boggling to me that I was on a date with a woman who was interested in wizarding politics. Most of my dates with women consisted of me nodding with feigned amusement while they related their boring family history to me aunt after uncle, cousin after cousin. "However, I think it's important to take into consideration that some of their medicinal technology is edging toward surpassing ours."

"Poppycock!"

"No, really, it's true," she swirled the wine in the bottom of her glass gracefully. "They have these machines they use to look right through the human body at bones. Of course it's toxic for them to use this machine, and they do anyway."

"Whatever would they want to do that for?"

"To see if they're broken."

"Ah," I nodded. "How ridiculous."

Her sweet laughter touched me in such a way that I felt so humble in her presence. Not another woman had ever had such power over me and she had yet to even let me kiss her anywhere except her hand. "Well, they aren't near as advanced or intelligent as we are, but I think the fact that muggle-born witches and wizards are born every day suggests that some part of nature would like to see the two worlds merge."

"My word, that's the most preposterous suggestion I've ever heard."

"Well, I never said I agreed with it as a principle. Personally, I think we should put them into segregated colonies and study them."

"The way i>they /i> do with animals?"

"Precisely," the curve of her lips was wickedly delightful. "Muggle zoos," she said

"Now that I'd pay to see. Are you sure I can't introduce you to the Dark Lord? He might be interested in hearing some of what you've said here tonight."

"Perhaps at some point we could arrange such a meeting."

"Why not tonight?" I leaned across the table. "I could take you to meet with him after dinner?"

"Oh, no, not tonight," she shook her head. "Tonight we're only having dinner, Lucius."

I don't know quite why, but her saying this knocked the wind out of me. Dinner was nearly finished. There was little more than a swallow of wine left in her glass and we were only just beginning to scratch the surface with each other. "But, I thought perhaps I could interest you in a walk, at the very least."

"Perhaps next time," she said.

Next time? Next time? Dear Merlin! How could she expect me to wait until next time? Then it occurred to me that she had hinted that she would go out with me again. Rodolphus would be absolutely astonished. Smugly, I said, "All right then. Next time it is." I swallowed, kept my composure even though I was unraveling once more on the inside. "I'll hold you to it."

"I would be offended if you didn't," she smiled.

"Will you at least allow for me to see you home?"

"Of course," she agreed.

I'd have the entire drive home to try to woo her, I realized. . . all thirty minutes of it.


	5. Hanky Panky

**Chapter Four: Hanky Panky**

My father had enchanted an American car about fifteen years before I was born, and when I was twenty he gifted it to me so that I might ride around in all the style and grace of a well to do young man. Why he ever chose that classic Duesenberg as his own I'll never know because my father had always hated Americans about as much as he hated Muggles, but if he ever loved anything in his miserable life it was probably that car. Nevertheless, I personally liked the Duesenberg because even as it was designed by some blithering mudblood, my father had accoutered it luxuriously, and riding around inside the spacious coach was like a dream.

"This is a very nice car, Lucius," Narcissa noticed, admiring the interior as she ran her hand over the velvety suede of the seat beside her. She had crossed her leg effeminately, the cream skin of her calf enticing me as it peaked out through the slit in the side of her gown. I looked up at her and noticed that she had been assessing the way I admired the shape of her leg. I watched as a hint of delight flashed across her face but it was gone almost before it had arrived. "Did you say it was your father's?"

"Indeed it was," I replied.

"And then he gave it to you?"

"For my birthday two years ago."

"What a wonderful gift," she folded her hands and placed them in her lap, the long fingers elegantly linking together while the perfectly manicured nails caught my attention. They were bright red, accentuating the pale color of her skin. She wore only one ring- an antique sapphire, which I noticed brought out the intense color of her eyes at that precise moment. I hadn't noticed on Christmas Eve how changeable her eyes were but now I was catching on to this unique quality she carried. One minute they seemed grey and the next green, but right then, in the waning light inside the car, those eyes were so dark a blue that sapphires paled against their beauty. "I have often wanted a car of my own, but Father doesn't think it wise."

I scoffed, "And why not?"

"Well, he would never know where to find his daughters, as they would be off racing all over the English countryside in what he has called muggle-deathtraps," she smiled appreciatively, but clearly she only humored her father. "Of course I would want to drive the car myself though, not be driven in it, and that would mean lessons, and all those other complications."

"I see," I nodded. "It isn't so difficult as all that."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, driving a car," I said.

"You know how to drive?"

"But of course."

"Really, Lucius, I thought you would be above such petty mugglery as driving a car yourself."

"There is nothing muggle about driving a car, I'll have you know," I insisted. Really there isn't. It is a common misconception that the first car was designed by a muggle. He was actually a warlock, and his design was far superior to some of the modern cars we have today, but alas its superiority broke several muggle protection laws in his day and never made it to market. "I could teach you, if you'd like me to."

She laughed nervously, "Oh, I don't know."

"Come now, there's nothing to it."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Well, perhaps a bit, but I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"I like danger," she narrowed her eyes a little, their heavy lids lingering a moment longer than usual. When she opened them again, their color was paler, more like moonstone. She had spoken with a hint of flirtation that hadn't entered into any of our other conversation through dinner. "It fascinates me?"

"Really?" I swallowed and inwardly cursed myself once I'd realized what I'd done. What an idiot. How obviously juvenile I must have appeared to her. "I would love to give you lessons," I said. "Driving lessons, I mean."

"Perhaps I'll take you up on them sometime." She had become suddenly aloof, the conversation after that dwindling into false starts and sparks of nothing and I could feel myself deteriorating from the inside out. How had I managed to become such a blithering dolt in her presence, and even worse, why did I care? She had arrived more than hour late for our first date, had sat across from me in the car on the way home instead of beside me, and when we pulled up in front of the infamed Black Mansion at the end of the most uncomfortable silence I had ever partaken in, I doubted that she would even kiss me good night if I walked her to the door.

However, like a perfect gentleman, I helped her from the car and offered her my arm, walking through the frigid evening toward the veranda where a solitary, green gas lamp burned. We said nothing during that short jaunt from the car to the door and I kept asking myself why it was such a big deal if she kissed me or not. I had other women, women who would kiss me. In fact, I planned to leave there and scare one of them up to placate the alienation from self I often felt myself experiencing her strange presence.

"I want to thank you, Lucius," she stopped short of the cobblestone pathway that led straight to the door. "I don't think I've ever had such a wonderful time in all my life."

Obviously she exaggerated, "No, thank you, Narcissa," I smiled winsomely, hoping that score me a few more points with her. "I had a fabulous time. You are an intriguing conversationalist."

She looked down a little, but I could still see that she was smiling. It was the most beautiful expression I had ever seen on a woman, both demure and alluring, the faint, green light from the nearby lantern made perfect shadows against her pale beauty that drew attention to the length and elegance of her neck, the slender slope of her nose and the full fruit of her sensual mouth. I wanted so badly to taste of that fruit, dear gods I would have given anything to kiss her, but when I leaned forward, she stepped back looking up at me in innocent alarm. The silence that pitted itself between us had the potential to become permanent and I couldn't let that happen.

"May I see you again?" I tried to sound casual so she didn't find me desperate, and I was almost positive I had failed. "Perhaps before you return to school?"

"Perhaps," she gave me nothing more. "I'll send an owl."

My smile must have seemed so idiotic; I could feel myself nodding in a way that felt as though it were happening outside of me, like I was some sort of puppet and she was pulling my strings. "Please do." Sweet Jove! I was so needy! What had she done to me?

"Well, good night, Lucius," and just as I was expecting her to turn and walk toward the door, she leaned up and pecked me on the cheek so quickly that I barely had time to react. My face felt as though it were on fire, lit like a match in the place where she had laid her lips, and when she turned around, walking toward the door, the strings tugged at my arm and I found my fingers caressing the place her lips had last touched. My heart was galloping. I was in trouble. This girl. . . why she was still in school and it made no sense. It was preposterous!

I must have stood there on the walk for more than a minute after she disappeared into the manor. Had anyone seen me I would have been the laughing stock, the love struck moron touching his face in the last place she'd touched her lips to. A sigh escaped me and a peculiar mold had shaped my face against my will. I was smiling in such a way that I might never be the same again, and that smile only broadened when I returned to the car and told my driver to just drive, for there in the seat across from me, in the seat Narcissa Black had occupied only moments early was a silk handkerchief, delicately embroidered with the letter N.

I lifted the silk against my cheek, breathed in her divine essence and held it in inside until I thought I might explode. I relaxed the overcompensating thump of my foolish heart when I finally exhaled. That handkerchief was my key. If no other evidence existed that Narcissa felt the same as I did, that token she'd left on the seat said it all. Narcissa wanted to see me again, and she had left behind the perfect excuse for me to return to Black Mansion. 


	6. Family Ties

**Chapter Five: Family Ties**

I met Rodolphus in Slytherin during our third year. He was the only acquaintance I made in my own year that was actually worth keeping in touch with after we had taken our N.E.W.T.s. In our seventh year we had been introduced to the Dark Lord by the same contact, an older woman who had finished school two years ahead of us named Yasmine Deluth. We had both been romantically involved with Yasmine before she left school, Rodolphus and I constantly rivaling against one another for her affections, and when we realized how skillfully she had played us, how she had tuned us to her passion like violins, our only other recourse was to ally our forces against her. The result was a meeting with the Dark Lord.

Before Rodolphus and I had come into his service, he had accepted no children, as he called us, and with good reason. Children were inexperienced, underdeveloped, weak, but there was one thing he had overlooked in his rejection of youth- we were malleable as putty in his hands. He need only speak to capture our attention, and I can recall, in my adolescent awe of him, feeling that all of the wisdom and cunning I had devised in my seventeen years was no rival for his complete mastery of self. He exuded darkness the way others radiate with light and beauty, and often hid in the shadows to intensify the mystery of his intrigue. I stood in his wake that first night in absolute awe of his intensity. I wanted that darkness, that self-certainty and confidence. I wanted to rule and this amused him.

"Tell me, young Lucius," the way he spoke my name inspired service in me almost instantly. It was the way I had always hoped my father might speak to me, with admiration and appreciation. "Were I to accept you into my service, what limits are you willing to break within yourself to obtain my goals?"

I didn't hesitate," All of them, my lord."

"Would you kill for me?"

"Most definitely, my lord."

"Anyone I asked you to?"

"Without hesitation, my lord."

"Your own father?"

I peered into the shadow that was his visage and confidently replied, "Especially my own father."

I like to think that he was impressed with my dedication, but little did he know I'd always despised my own father. The man had no sense of family loyalty and had spent the better part of fifteen years humiliating my mother by sleeping with half her friends. In retrospect, perhaps this is why it is expected of me to dishonor my marriage vows with Narcissa, but alas, that disloyalty was my father's greatest failing, and the thing that made him less than worthy in my eyes. "Very good," the Dark Lord leaned into the flickering orange glow of torchlight that lit his chamber so that I might peer into his enigmatic, glowing eyes. "You need not kill him lest he stand in the way of our cause, but in my service you will kill for me."

His pause in speech had been left open so that I might praise him in reply. My intuition was on the mark, and I lifted my head with pride to announce, "I will do it gladly in your name."

We both received the Dark Mark that night, and because we were young, an experiment in loyalty, the Dark Lord paired me with Rodolphus and assigned us our first muggle execution in his name. Ever since that night we had been paired, and I have no shame in admitting we were his most adept team of exterminators. Rodolphus excelled in the art of administering abject torment, and I was the Dark Lord's Angel of Death. He called me thus because I took great joy in toying with my victims minds by offering them false mercy. I often engaged them intellectually, bartering with them the cost of their lives, and though I've heard them say that human life is priceless, you would be surprised how quickly a man will offer up his property, even the life of those around him to spare himself from suffering and death.

"How pathetic," I shook my head, looking down at the crumpled heap at our feet that had once been human life. "Imagine putting your own progeny up in bargain to spare yourself."

Rodolphus was tying the flowing, black locks of his hair at the nape of his neck with a ribbon, "'Tis why I feel no pity for them." He finished his trifle deed before kicking at the body of the government official who had been our target. "Climbing the political and social latter with so little regard for your own offspring. . . imagine it. It's absolutely disgusting."

"Indeed," I was unfolding the sleeves of my robes, the soft fabric caressing my wrists as it dropped into place. I smoothed away the wrinkles, and became contemplative, "What would you do, Rodolphus?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you were in this position."

"Bite your tongue," he sneered, his cold, green eyes biting at me in the semi-darkness. "I would never be in this position and I would rather not contemplate it."

"I was only speaking hypothetically, not even this specific situation, but say your life were at stake and someone offered to spare you if you sacrificed your own children," I asked.

He took out his wand and sent up the Morsemorde and together we disapparated from the scene of the crime. When we apparated again in the antechamber of the Dark Lord, he answered, "Assuming I find myself in such a position, which will never happen, I would most definitely not barter with the life of my offspring."

"Neither would I." I agreed.

"And speaking of offspring, I hear your little date with Narcissa Black went off without a hitch."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Had she been talking about me? It had been three days since I had taken her out and I had heard nothing from her. I had been inwardly debating whether or not I should return the handkerchief in person just so I could see her again, or send it by owl to maintain a certain aloof distance that suggested my interest in her was genuine but not dominating my thought. However, that was a lie. All I'd been able to think about was Narcissa.

"I hear she had a very nice time. She's been waiting to hear from you."

"Surely, you jest, Lestrange." I astounded.

"Would I toy with you, Malfoy?"

"You might," I replied. "If you thought you could get under my skin."

A wicked grin sliced across his face, "Well, in that case, you're correct, but in this matter, I'm absolutely serious."

"Really?" I felt my brow crease with curiosity. How on earth would he know whether or not Narcissa was waiting to hear from me?

"Indeed," he nodded. "I've been making myself comfortable at Black Mansion since last we spoke. I figured if you weren't interested in Bella, I might take her for a bit of a whirl myself."

"Good Gods, Rodolphus, she'll turn you inside out and leave you spinning on your head."

An appreciative chuckle shook him, "That's half the beauty of it." The chamber door rattled open and Yasmine came out, squinting in agony. We both ignored her, as we'd become prone to doing in the last three years, and surged forward to meet with our master and assure him that his latest execution had been expertly performed. "She's quite adept in the art of torment," he went on.

"Do tell," I would have expected no less from Bellatrix.

"What, and spoil the secret of my delicious reverie? Oh, no, Lucius. I'm having far too much fun with her to ruin it by letting on to the delight I've discovered in detail."

"I see, and what did Narcissa say?"

"Nothing to me," he shrugged, "but Bella said she's quite smitten with you. She's beside herself with worry that she was too standoffish with you on your date. Really, you should get in touch with her."

"Perhaps I will tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he astounded.

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Oh, I wouldn't wait another night if I were you, Malfoy. At the very least send her an owl when you get home, asking her out again."

"Hmm," I pondered his suggestion and wondered how much of what he was saying was conjecture on the part of his new love interest. Bellatrix would have given anything to disrupt my relations with her sister after having rejected her so blatantly. It would have been her subtle way of exacting vengeance on me. "Well, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow." Then we were in the presence of our master and could speak of it no more.

I wondered after we parted ways and I was home in my bedchamber, if Rodolphus had given any thought to introducing Bellatrix to the Dark Lord. Narcissa had spoken of the younger girl's interest in his cause, but I wasn't sure Rodolphus would have wanted one of his toys getting to close to the business side of him. On the other hand, were I to bring the girl to my master's attention, it could act two ways in my favor. On Bella's behalf, it would ease some of the tension my rejection was obviously causing so that I might more properly court her sister without intervention, and on the Dark Lord's behalf, he would come in contact with who I believed would become one of his most treasured assets. There was no doubt in my mind that Bellatrix was cunning and powerful enough to win her way into the Dark Lord's grace and favor, so instead of writing to Narcissa that night, I sat down and wrote to her sister, asking her to meet me for lunch so that we might discuss her interference in my relations with her sister. If she denied me, it would be her loss and I would have to work around her, but in no way was I going to have some snotty, sixteen year old girl making waves in my affairs.


	7. Bartering for Permanence

**From Sir Phillip Sidney's Astrophil and Stella**  
II  
Not at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot,  
Love gave the wound, which, while I breathe, will bleed;  
But known worth did in mine of time proceed,  
Till by degrees it had full conquest got.  
I saw and liked; I liked but loved not;  
I loved, but straight did not what love decreed;  
At length to love's decrees I, forced, agreed,  
Yet with repining at so partial lot.  
Now even that footstep of lost liberty  
Is gone, and now, like slave-born Muscovite,  
I call it praise to suffer tyranny;  
And now employ the remnant of my wit  
To make me self believe that all is well,  
While, with a feeling skill, I paint my hell.

**Chapter Six-Bartering for Permanence**

I knew it was a huge risk inviting the sister of my heart's desire to luncheon, but as a business man I learned early the importance of calculating your risks while simultaneously cutting losses in order to achieve maximum gain. I sent Narcissa flowers, and not just any flowers, but Blushing Roman Roses bedecked with Bianca Narcissi, the very blossoms from which her name was plucked. I may have been smitten, but I was no fool. I knew well how to woo her, that to flatter her with the most expensive bouquet would only add me to a long list of rabble that had already tried for her hand and failed. The bouquet had to be costly, yes, but also well planned. Attached was a card upon which I scribbled some idiotic muggle's sonnet and the words, "I will not rest until we meet again." I then signed my name and sent my token forth, still holding on to her handkerchief with every intention of doing so until we were face to face again.

Perhaps I was being foolish, but I didn't trust Bellatrix or Rodolphus for that matter. Ever since our simultaneous affair with Yasmine Rodolphus felt some inane urge to compete with me romantically. If he came in contact with me out with a woman, he carefully scrutinized and studied her and then made sure to show up again within the week with a girl who looked almost exactly like her, but somehow more appealing to the eye. The unfortunate flaw was that Rodolphus was a dreadful judge of character and often found himself wrapped in the arms of some premature nymph on the verge of her first psychotic episode. Bellatrix was actually a step up for him. She'd already had her psychotic episode, or at least I had surmised as much when she walked into the café dressed all in black. She wore the most amazing, thigh-high, paten leather boots that stopped just below the edge of her inappropriately short skirt and drew attention to the incredible length of her shapely legs.

Like a heathen, she swung one leg over the chair across from me. I was appalled.

"Sweet Merlin, Bella," I gasped, leaning across the table. "Why don't we send out invitations to our little meeting? The way you're attracting attention, we might as well ask them to join us."

"Such dramatics, Lucius, really," she droned. She'd cropped her hair, I noticed, so that it clung in tight, ebony streaks against her chin and cheeks and drew attention to the heavy lids of her dark-blue eyes. Her skin was unusually pale against the black of her hair, accentuating what even I could not deny was a dark, unusual beauty. The flaw in that beauty was that she knew about it and it came across in the crooked gesture of her sinister grin. "The only way they'll find out what's not under it is if they look, and if they look…" she glanced over her shoulder in obvious reference to a young man three tables back, "well that's their problem."

"You're positively indecent," I remarked.

She laughed at me, "From you that's as good as a compliment. Thank you."

I could feel my upper lip reacting to her with a sneer, but then I remembered why I had asked her to lunch and it ironed out, reacting in a contrived smile that had I seen it, I was sure I would have been proud of myself. "You're welcome."

We ordered lunch, but Bella was extremely disappointment that the café didn't serve cocktails. She spent the first ten minutes in my company complaining about my poor taste in restaurants, but I swallowed my offense, continually reminding myself that she was nothing more than a child. She was a reckless, ill-mannered, spoiled little girl who would only learn her place in the adult world after a few hardships and a fair bit of suffering. It annoyed me when she smoked, but I bit my tongue and inwardly hoped that Rodolphus found himself stuck with her on some permanent level. I wished illegitimate children on them, and then rescinded that horror before it became a well-formed thought, firmly believing that any child of their union would be a doomed monstrosity suffered by the rest of us quite hazardously. It would serve him right though, getting stuck with her, the pretentious bastard, for trying to compete with me again.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've asked you to lunch this afternoon, Bella," I began.

She shrugged the angles of her shoulders quite sharply, "I figured you'd seen the error of your ways and decided to crawl back to me before it's too late."

This time I laughed at her. I laughed hard too, not some laugh that suggested I was humoring her, but I was genuinely amused and it was obvious. The natural arch of her thin eyebrows became a bemused line of hatred, "Oh, that is too much," I told her. "You're so cute. Adorable, really." She was on the verge of giving me a piece of her mind when the food arrived. I continued to add little tufts of laughter every moment or two to enhance the rage that was slowly simmering inside her. I don't know why, but seeing her that way gave me the same sort of pleasure that I derived in torturing muggles. "My my," I shook my head. "Really, we must do this more often, Bella. Your sense of humor is to die for."

"Be careful," she warned malignantly. "It might actually kill you."

I felt no threat from her, and truly believed I could handle my own against her, so I allowed my laughter to go on until it slowly fizzled out. "Dear Bella," I said. It was time to appeal to that ego of hers, "If only you had been born a year sooner, or I two years later, perhaps then we might have made a delectable match, you and I, but alas, the fates have intertwined me with not you, but your lovely sister, and I've invited you here today to both warn you and embrace you."

She lowered her heavy eyelids curiously, so that no more than small slits of cornflower blue peered back at me. "Warn and embrace me? What nonsense is this, Malfoy? Be straight with me or I'll make good on my threat against you."

I shook my head, such fury for one her age wasn't rare, but often undernourished and therefore underdeveloped. Not Bella. She had mastered that furious temper years before and made no bones in using it to her advantage. I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, a sly grin stealing over my lips, "I meant nothing more than this. I will not be deterred so easily from your sister, and most especially not by you."

"I don't know what. . ."

"Do not interrupt me!" An astonished look passed across her pale face. Clearly she had never been put in her place before, and it was high time she learned it. At first she leered incredulously across the table at me, but the arrogance soon faded and she looked down and away, yielding dominance to me. I felt a sense of smug, satisfaction, "Now, I am willing to barter with you, something you want for something I want."

Immovable stubbornness flickered in her eyes, which were cold and hard as steel when she raised them to mine, "You have nothing I want, Malfoy."

"Tsk tsk, Bella, you haven't even heard the terms I'm offering."

"I'm sure they're worthless."

"All right then," I sat back in my seat, stone-faced and ready to play aloof. My suggestion that she would be the one losing if she walked away from me was unspoken but clear enough for her to recognize that sacrificing my chance with her sister would not leave an irreparable mark. It was true. I was smitten with Narcissa enough to strike a deal, but I certainly wouldn't die without her. On the other hand what I was going to offer her might very well never be offered again. "I shall pass your compliments on to the Dark Lord himself."

"The Dark Lord?" she swallowed.

"Indeed."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Your sister," I began. "I want her, but more than anything, I want _you _to make sure I get her."

"And how do you expect me to do that? 'Cissa has a mind of her own and rarely asks me to think for her."

"True, but she does listen to you, and however will she form her own opinion of me if yours is in her way?" I lifted my brow cleverly. "Unless, of course, your opinion of me were to change, say become a little more. . . flattering?"

"And what are you going to do for me, Malfoy?"

"Simple," I began. "I'll speak on your behalf to the Dark Lord, perhaps get you an audience with him. I think he would be most interested in meeting you."

"Rodolphus can do that for me. . ."

I shook my head, "No," I assured her. "He wouldn't want to do that because that would make you a permanent fixture. Trust me, Bella, as far as Rodolphus is concerned, you're only a temporary fling. You've got another week, two at best." I didn't understand how that could have gotten to her the way it did, but I noted a glimmer of hardened viciousness in her hateful eyes.

"I think my sister just fell in love with you, Malfoy," her grin was like a malignant tumor, deadly but silent, creeping upward to steal her face in its grasp. "I expect an audience with his Darkness no later than tomorrow evening, and if you let me down, Lucius, you will regret it." Though I didn't fear Bellatrix Black, by the look in her eye then, I believed her.

"Don't worry," I winked casually, inspiring an air of hideous delight in her that unnerved even me. "I won't let you down." 


	8. Tis a Happy Curse

With Bellatrix Black in my pocket, I imagined everything henceforth would be smooth sailing. I left our luncheon promising her an audience with the Dark Lord before the week's end, and in return, she was going to change her tune about me in conversation with her sister. I wasn't the least bit surprised when she openly admitted to me that she was actually quite jealous of my interest in Narcissa. Together, she had said, we could have ruled the world, but my short-lived appetite for reckless abandon had waned in my youth, and I had come to the crossroads of maturity with intentions of immovable stability. Looking back, I realize that even then I must have realized the instability in the Dark Lord's ambition for world domination because I had been covering my tracks and my bases all along.

However, where Narcissa was concerned, I was in for a shocking revelation regarding my own self-control. Her response to my flowers and invitation arrived later that evening, shortly after I had finished having dinner with my family. A letter in her perfect, flowing script explained that the flowers had delighted her, and she would love to see me again. There would be only one opportunity for us to meet again before she returned to school to finish the second term of her final year. Saturday morning, she expected me to arrive with my car, alone, to pick her up for our second date. What happened after that would be a surprise, she wrote, possibly even to her. A surprise? The very idea unnerved me, as I am less than fond of surprises. I am a planner, you see, and very little of my life has been happenstance. Everything I have ever wanted, up to that point at least, had been the result of careful plotting and meticulous mapping. As though she had anticipated my instinctual response, Narcissa finished out her letter with the words:

"_Before you deny or refuse this idea of spontaneity, let us live a little, Lucius, for we are young, and it is the way of youth to flow where the water may go,_" and then she signed the letter _with love_.

Her words were poetry, I thought, and she hadn't even needed to borrow them from some clever poet. They had been her own, but most puzzling to me was the natural way in which she signed the missive. With love? Those words, how strange they were to me, more perplexing than you could possibly fathom. Love was such a unique concept, something I was more than certain I had never experienced romantically in my life. My mother loved me in her own way, I was sure of it, and of course, all of the women I had made contact with over the years had adored me deeply, some of them even claiming to have loved me, but the feeling was all too often unreciprocated on my behalf. The very thought of romantic love seemed a preposterous impossibility because the only person I had ever loved as long as I could recall had been myself; could I love another?

I certainly hadn't gone into my relations with Narcissa with love in mind. I undoubtedly admit that I had contemplated a future with her after our brief chat on Christmas Eve, and even more so after she'd kissed me. Up until that point she had been the only woman I had envisioned in the position of the future Mrs. Lucius Malfoy, and we barely knew each other intimately beyond the boundaries of a simple kiss. Narcissa Black was beautiful and witty; she had style and grace and a certain flare for getting what she wanted. . .

Dear Gods! It had suddenly occurred to me during this train of thought that I was some pawn in a game she was playing. For the first time I actually questioned whether or not Narcissa had planned it all. Had she bewitched me? She had twisted my inborn desire for control right out of my hands on every occasion we had been together, making it so that I wanted to give her everything she wanted. I would never have stood for a woman arriving more than five minutes late for a date with me, let alone excusing her the hour she had left me waiting in that restaurant. Good Gods! I say again, because I had never been so obviously duped in all my life and yet, there was a part of me that fancied the idea of her having that subtle power over me. Bewitched indeed, I felt myself grinning when I realized it, and I wrote back to Narcissa that night confirming our date for Saturday, and assuring her that the fate of our togetherness was in her hands. I signed the letter, "Devotedly yours, Lucius."

Now, I only had to make good on my promise to Bella, which I knew wouldn't be a problem. The Dark Lord was always looking for new recruits and most especially young women because he firmly believed that one of the easiest ways to get under a man's skin was with a beautiful woman. I presented her to him the Thursday before my next meeting with Narcissa, and as I left her in the chamber with the Dark Lord, I came face to face with an infuriated Rodolphus in the antchamber.

"You son of a bitch!" He came at me like some kind of wild barbarian, nearly tackling me and throwing me into the wall. Unprepared, I stumbled a little before I fell into the hard, stone. My glaring look must have been enough of a warning, for Rodolphus stepped away, unclenching the handful of my robes he had taken in the skirmish. "You have some explaining to do, Malfoy!"

I brushed away the place where his hand had been only moments before, smoothing away the wrinkle, "I beg your pardon, Lestrange?"

"How dare you bring her here?" he may have backed off, but there was still venom in both his voice and his eyes. "How dare you expose her to my world? Do you have any idea how difficult it will be to get rid of her now that she's seen it? She'll be like the bloody plague, hanging about sucking the life out of me. . ."

A smooth chuckle escaped me, "Dear Rodolphus," I shook my head. "I've done you a huge favor, and this is how you repay me?"

"A favor?" he choked. "You brought _her_ here! Here, Malfoy! And the worst part is you understand exactly what that means. She will loll after me like a whelp now." He slipped into a whiney imitation of her, "Can I help you torture that one, Rodolphus? Might I try that Cruciatus this time?" His lip twitched reproachfully, "As if it wasn't bad enough having Rabastan at my back all the time asking if he's torturing them long enough before he kills them. . ." I could hardly contain my laughter, which only served to infuriate him further. "I swear by Merlin's beard, I'll get you for this, Lucius."

"Come now, Rodolphus, who's to say this won't prove interesting in the end. I think she's perfect for this sort of work. She's positively wicked." I pointed out. "Wait a minute," I began, 'that's why you're upset, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're angry because you didn't think of it first."

"You're out of your mind, Malfoy." But he looked away when he said this, confirming my suspicions. Our lord and master would be most pleased with a specimen like Bellatrix Black under his power, and my having brought her to him would serve to uplift me in his favor. "Perhaps I should introduce Narcissa to him," he tried.

"Narcissa wouldn't lower herself to be seen in public with you, and you know it," I pointed out.

He was grinning subtly, "Don't be so sure of that, Lucius. The Imperius has been known to lead stronger minds than hers into his service."

This time, however, the grin was mine, "She doesn't need the Imperius curse to lead her into his service, you fool." The smirk he wore began to fade. "I have no pains about leading her there myself. I've already made the arrangements with her. It's simply a matter of time."

A moment of silence followed my admission, and then he shook his head, "You have changed, Malfoy. She's put you under some wicked spell."

"Perhaps," I shouldered past him and didn't look back when I said, "Don't try to fight it, Rodolphus. It won't be long before you're under that same spell yourself."

"Whatever are you prattling on about?"

"'Tis a happy curse," I said. "I suffer it gladly, and so should you."

Moments before I disapparated from his presence, I heard him mutter his final disagreement with my position, "You're absolutely mad if you've given in to their games, Lucius, and even more so if you think they'll win me the way they have you."

I was laughing again when I reapparated in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, so uproariously that it inspired two of the house-elves to peer out at me in curiosity.


	9. Intrepid Journeys

**Chapter Eight: Intrepid Journeys**

"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware."- Martin Buber

Her laughter was like a heady wine from which I'd drunk too much, and were I asked to make any sort of reasonable decision, my thought process would have been absolutely useless. Consumption left me lightheaded from time to time; what blissful intoxication simply being in her presence. I listened as the gears in my antique automobile ground viciously together like metal bones crying out in agonizing torment to her touch. Funny how the sound of wailing muggles pleading for the lives never seemed to get old, but the groan of a tortured motor vehicle grated against my nervous system like shards of glass. Each time, I winced, but then she'd start to laugh again, placating my belief that it wasn't even possible for her to break anything she touched with those feather soft hands. Her laughter seemed to suggest that everything would be fine, and like a fool, I believed her.

"Shall I give it up, then, Lucius?" she glanced over at me in the passenger's seat, her dazzling eyes shining like stained-glass against the rays of late-morning sun. "I'm apt to destroy the poor, old thing if I don't."

"Nonsense," I waved her off, smoothing out the rigidity in my tone with a stiff smile. "If you break it, I can always fix it." The truth was that as long as she kept laughing, the heartrending sound of that engine was inconsequential. "Or buy a new one."

She threw back her head again and started to laugh, the loose strands of her sun and honey hair jostling with the movement, "Sweet Brigid, Lucius," her eyes had glossed with fitting tears of laughter. "You look as though you've swallowed a pint of belladonna," she said, "and now you're bitterly awaiting your own, sweet death."

This reference actually loosened my smile, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'll stop," she gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and grinned over at me as though silently willing me to insist she go on and continue having her fun. "I'll park here and let you drive."

"Really, Narcissa, that won't be necessary. You're fine," I told her. Inwardly I felt pressed to plead with her not to stop. There was something freeing about her company, and as long as she continued to intoxicate me with the wonder of her beautiful laughter, I didn't care what she did to the bloody car. The car, though quite rare and antique, was somewhat replaceable, moments with Narcissa. . . well, those were fleeting so long as she held the reigns of our relations in her hands. "Go ahead and try again. Gas, clutch. . . it's easy."

"Maybe I should just use my wand," she said. "Make it more automatic so we might enjoy the ride. It's a little difficult to concentrate on conversation with all these gears, and such."

"If you feel more comfortable," I conceded.

"I would," she said. "Is there a special charm of some sort?" I tapped my wand against the steering wheel, replacing the enchantment.

"All you need to do now is tell it where you'd like to go."

"Really?" her eyebrows lifted in gleeful anticipation. "Could we go anywhere?"

"Certainly."

"Paris?"

"If you felt so inclined."

"What about Hong Kong?"

"We could."

"America?"

Her fascination with America bemused me. It was the second time she'd mentioned the place, the first occurring during the appetizer of our first date. "Would you like me to take you to America?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I would like that very much," her eyes were wide with anticipation. "I hear there are cities there that never sleep."

"London never sleeps," I pointed out.

"True, but I hear that it never rains in Washington."

"Actually that's California," I casually corrected. "It always rains in Washington."

"Oh, really?"

I smiled, "At least that's what I've heard."

"Might we go there?"

"To Washington?"

"To California," she replied.

"Right now?"

She gazed across the car at me, her eyes an entreaty to forever. It was stupid, but I honestly would have gone anywhere with her right then, and not given a second thought about my life, my duties or responsibilities. Her grin softened, lighting up her entire face, "Some day," she looked away. How could she be so innocent, and yet so clever and beguiling? She was nothing like Bellatrix, but I was still convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing to me, exactly how to work me to get her heart's desire. She had don't nothing for me physically, and I was ready to sign over everything I had to make her happy.

My grin was genuine, and the strange feeling within me was warm and enticing, "You only need to say the word, and I will take you there."

A large, looping curl slipped slowly down her cheekbone, and something about its softness beckoned for me to reach out and touch it, to brush it away. I had to fight against my own hand, not knowing if touching her was allowed, and fearing that if I crossed some unspoken boundary unawares, I might lose her before she was really even mine. She inspired the gentleman in me, whereas no other woman in the history of my existence had ever managed to do so, and for a moment, I thought my mother would be proud.

"I will take you up on that one day," she promised me. For a moment, the innocence melted away to reveal the dangerous woman I was dealing with beneath and, I shuddered with the delicious suggestion in her smile. "For now," she went on, "perhaps we should find somewhere cozy and have lunch."

We ended up in Hogsmeade, of all the strange places for her to choose. It hadn't occurred to me until we were halfway through the most interesting lunch conversation I had ever partaken in, that she was flaunting our togetherness to a group of Hogwarts students who had obviously not been home for the holiday. Juvenile as it was, I played along for her sake, hoping to win myself even further into her steadily increasing favor. It must have worked, because for the first time since I had started courting her, she slinked her arm through mine as we were leaving the restaurant, even though none of her little friends were anywhere to be seen.

She felt warm there on my arm, curling close to me against the wintry gusts of January that followed us through the streets of the only all-wizarding town in the world. We window-shopped and talked casually about the future. I was surprised to hear of her ambitions in the potions field, for she shared with me a few ideas she thought the Dark Lord might be interested in that she had been working on in her spare time. "I've already offered to introduce you to him," I reminded her. "Shall I make good on my offer?"

"Like you did with Bella?" she asked, pulling away a little so that she could gauge my reaction. Her arm was still linked through mine, but I knew immediately that she was testing me again.

I swallowed more obviously than I meant to while contemplating her implication, "I had my reasons for introducing your sister to him."

"I know you did," she was grinning precariously, and for a moment I saw the resemblance between her and Bellatrix in a way I'd never seen it before. "It's important for Bella to like you. If Bella likes you, then I like you too."

"Really?" I astounded. She nodded. "I really had no idea."

"Oh yes," she repeated the gesture. "Bella is my everything, you see. We are sisters of the same heart. What she loves, I love, and if she hates you, well, then I have no choice but to hate you too." I couldn't believe she was telling me this so candidly. "We've always been close, you see, and for me to become intimately involved with any man. . . well he would have to not only understand our bond, but know how to handle my sister."

"I see," I felt oddly exposed all of the sudden, as though all along she had been studying my careful interactions with her sister. Had I passed her test?

"Lucky for you," she snuck in close again, both of her arms wrapped around mine now, "Bella adores you. She was quite deflated when your attention fell on me and not her, but she promised me that as long as you were good to her, she would give me her blessing." I looked down at her curiously. "So you see, Lucius," she continued, "you must always be kind to my sister, and I shall be kind to you."

I couldn't stop myself from grinning now that I knew this little secret. She had given me the key to successful relations with her, all I needed to do was keep Bella happy and Narcissa would be mine. As happy as knowing this made, me, I knew it wouldn't be a simple task. Bellatrix, as I've already demonstrated was then, and always will be quite mad. I could only hope that my role in introducing her to the Dark Lord would keep me in her good graces, always singing my praises and good favor back to her sister. It was becoming rather clear to me, during the drive back to Black Mansion just before dinner that courting Narcissa wasn't going to be an easy task. The real question was whether or not she was worth all the trouble.

She slid across the seat so that we were side by side, and looped her long arm through mine. She pressed her face against my arm comfortably, as though we had always been so familiar with one another, and even I couldn't deny it just felt right. "I hope that you will come to visit me when I go back to school," she said.

"If you'd like me to, I will come and visit you as often as I can."

"I would like you to," she said sweetly.

"Then I will."

"We can meet at Hogsmeade sometimes for lunch."

"Indeed we could."

She sighed, and though my ego could be wrong, I swore it was a sound of great contentment, the kind of breathe one expels after a great conquest had been won. I knew then that I would never know the truth about Narcissa's plot to win my heart. Perhaps there was no plot, but I would like to think I was important enough for her to scheme for. Had I thought of it first, I would have done it for her. I took my hand off the wheel and lowered my arm around her shoulders. Together, we sat back to watch the road unfold on the journey we were about to take together, and for the first time in my life, I knew contentment by another's side.

** A/N: Thank you everyone who read this story. Your feedback has been tremendously uplifting. I am grateful that you all took this journey with me and hope you'll join me for another adventure soon! If you are interesting in following this story line, but not as directly, there is a link story called Bella Disenchanted, and it is the story of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. It takes place in the same timeline and explores the other side of things. Thank you, once more, for joining me. It's been so wonderful hearing from you all. Llewellyn  
**  



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